


Few Extravagances

by prideofprewett



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25128895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prideofprewett/pseuds/prideofprewett
Summary: A Molly/Arthur one-shot that takes place in Chamber of Secrets following certain events in Flourish and Blotts. Sexual content ahead, so only proceed if you're looking for that.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Few Extravagances

**Author's Note:**

> You can blame my tumblr bestie, everyshipunsinkable, for this one (and the majority of the Molly/Arthur fanfics that I'm writing). Takes place in Chamber of Secrets following "the incident(s)" in the bookshop. This essentially stems from a headcanon, "Molly's thing for Gilderoy Lockhart is an inside joke in the Weasley family and they tease her mercilessly for it. But Arthur only ever teases her privately." Sexual content ahead, so read on if you're into that sort of thing, ignore it if not.

There were few extravagances Molly enjoyed that did not serve another purpose for someone else in the family. But the vanity table that Arthur made for Mother's Day one year was one of the things that was purely hers. Sure, the rose-colored paint was faded and chipped in several places, and the top surface needed sanded again. Fortunately, Molly mastered the spell for taking out splinters; years of mothering six unruly boys and a fearless girl required her to keep up on her knowledge of healing spells and remedies.

She sat on the backless chair, the cushion flattened from years of nightly use. Wrinkles etched their way around her eyes and forehead from years of laughter, shouting, and indignant eyebrow raising. She didn't have many beauty regimens but putting on a layer of wrinkle serum every night was one of them. She started rubbing it into her face when the door opened behind her, and Arthur snuck inside.

"All in bed?" She asked, not taking her eyes from her reflection in the mirror.

"Mhm…" He hummed in agreement before crossing the room to the cupboard that housed his pajamas. "But uhm…" He started then stopped, prompting Molly to look up at him from her seat.

"Yes?" She lifted an expectant brow.

He turned to face her, his arms resting against the shelf. His mouth did its usual twitchy thing when he wanted to tell her something but wanted to get the wording just right so as to avoid any sort of argument.

She was about to just tell him to _spit it out_ when he informed her rather gleefully.

"Ron's let Harry in on the secret bout your _fancy man_."

"Och," She let out a snort of mild annoyance, moving on to rub lotion into her hands.

Truthfully, she was relieved that _this_ was all he'd been reluctant to tell her. Part of her was bracing herself for something to do with the twins and the flying Ford Anglia again. But these taunts and jabs about her fancying Gilderoy Lockhart had been dished out for years. She supposed that's what happened when one lived in a household overflowing with testosterone.

"Well I'm not surprised he's still going on about it," Molly felt her lips twitch somewhat amusedly. "I heard him say something when we were in Flourish and Blotts." Her cheeks flushed momentarily at the memory, and she refused to look at him.

"Oh well…" Arthur shrugged, turning back around to pull on a fresh pair of striped pajamas.

"Speaking of Flourish and Blotts," She went on determinedly, "I heard a fight broke out near the shopfront while we were there." She flicked her wand and several soft rollers floated in midair before wrapping themselves around the auburn curls that framed her face.

"Oh? Did-did you now?" Arthur echoed in a pseudo-incredulous fashion while he pulled on the pajama bottoms.

Spinning around in her seat, she leaned a forearm on top of the vanity table. Drumming her fingers against the rough surface, she tilted her head to one side and mused with a sweet edge in her voice, "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Arthur's face took on a rosy quality as he shrugged out of his cardigan and loosened his tie while trying to explain himself, "Oh uhm…well…before you get angry, Molly dear…Lucius Malfoy had it coming."

"Did he now?"

"Yes," Arthur remarked steadily, replacing his shirt with his pajama top. "He was being a prick."

Rolling her eyes at this, Molly huffed, "He's _always_ a prick." She heard enough stories about Lucius Malfoy hanging around the Ministry, asserting his authority and leaving with his pockets galleons lighter. She knew anytime Arthur and him crossed paths at work, words of disdain were exchanged.

"He insulted the family," He stepped closer to her, his brow shooting up to the middle of his forehead.

At the same time, she stood and sighed with a tone of mild irritation, "He _always_ insults the family." She didn't need to hear it from Lucius Malfoy to know that their family were considered traitors by "the old order."

"And-and he was having a go at Harry," Arthur pointed a finger in midair rather triumphantly while making his final point.

There was a surge of pride in learning that the mistreatment of Harry had been the final straw for Arthur. If anyone deserved to be fought for, it was this poor boy whose only living family clearly felt he was more of a burden than a blessing. A boy who never asked to be born. A boy who never asked for the sort of fame that came along with his parents death. A boy she already looked at like one of her own sons.

But on the other hand, if there was one thing Molly was rather proud of, it was raising six boys to be upstanding individuals. Arthur and her taught them to stop fights rather than start them. And Arthur had always led by example on this one. Of course, there were bound to be momentary slip ups, like today's incident that Percy was quick to bring up to her. But for the most part, they abided by this principle.

"Even so," She reached up to turn out the collar of his pajama shirt before angling her face and lowering her voice. "You know how I feel about fighting."

His mouth curved into a teasing smile, "And you know how I feel about that _fancy man_ of yours." His arms wrapped around her, hands landing across her bottom. "But that didn't stop you from _drooling_ all over him as he autographed the half a dozen books you bought..."

Smacking him across the chest, she exclaimed, "I do not _drool_ , Arthur Weasley! And our children needed those books for their class!"

"No, but you were giggling and blushing and I'm not entirely sure they care about having their course books autographed."

A rather horrifying flush crept across her face at present. She thought he hadn't heard the finer details of the incident, but of course one of the children likely blabbed to him about it. This realization prompted her to quip, "Are you jealous?"

Arthur glanced down between them, his hands running up to her lower back before he drew her body close to him. "Well, seeing how my wife came home with me and not another man…"

Gasping at him out of mock horror, she smacked him again on the shoulder. But he was quick to laugh and bring his mouth to hers.

Once their mouths broke apart, he finished, "No, I am not jealous."

Molly tried to will herself to feel something like displeasure, but the way Arthur was looking at her right now disarmed her. With his twinkling blue eyes and fingers playing with the thin cotton of her floral nightie, she found it rather difficult to be cross with him.

Marveling up at him, her arms hanging around his neck, "I don't know whether to be flattered that you still think I _could_ or offended that you think I _would_ go along with anyone else."

"I meant it as a compliment," He murmured before squeezing her sides.

"Arthur!" She squealed, feeling ticklish. She pried his hands away from her waist and backed away towards the bed. Crawling beneath the mismatched patch quilts that covered their bed, she remarked a bit sullenly, "I hate it when you do that."

He climbed on top of the bed and bounced his way over to his side, prompting another chorus of half amused, half annoyed _Arthur's_ to ring through the air. Sometimes it felt like she had seven sons, instead of six.

"And _that_ ," She added with a sharp look, sinking down against the mattress.

"Well," Arthur rolled to face her, his hand diving beneath the bed covers down to the hemline of her nightie, "perhaps we ought to do something that you do like, hm?"

"Arthurrr…" She crooned out a protest, unable to suppress the smile that crossed her lips.

His hand stroked between her legs, mouth descending on her neck. After the third or fourth kiss landed at her collarbone (she was soon losing count) and his hot breath sent shivers across her skin, he pulled away and mocked, "Don't tell me you hate _this_ now?"

If she wasn't slowly sliding into a pool of pleasurable warmth, she would have smacked that smug smirk off his face. But she rather liked the familiar hum of desire vibrating within her, and the feel of his nimble fingers sliding inside of her knickers. She growled in a throaty tone, "Shut up and kiss me, you old fool."

His grin deepened and he acquiesced to this command. Her lips met his in a similarly deliberate fashion. Tongues slid over and under, lips engaging and disengaging familiarly while their hands roamed all the usual places to stir up a steady heat between them.

Arthur rolled on top of her, hiking up her nightgown to her abdomen and lowering himself down their bed. His kissed his way across the soft expanse of her middle, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her knickers. He slowly peeled them away, his tongue trailing along the tendons of her inner thighs. Her legs parted willingly, inviting his mouth to continue doing all the things she most certainly did _not_ hate.

He moaned against her, and her hips rolled in response as he continued kissing and licking her there. His arm pinned her down as he continued alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and tight kisses to bring her closer to her end. Her hands ran through what was left of his hair, and she watched him work. A slight smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, his eyelids drooping with desire.

Returning the look, Molly's head then fell back against the pillows. Her legs muscles tensed and tightened as she grew slick with want. The heat radiating between her thighs was almost at a boiling point. She needed more than just his mouth. She needed _him_.

"Arthur," She reached for him pleadingly. "I need you. Now."

Sensing her meaning, he was quick to do away with his pajama bottoms, and was realigning their bodies. His mouth sought hers, and she tasted herself on his lips rather sensually. Molly felt him hanging stiffly between her legs, but she had other plans. "No..." She grunted, sitting up and speaking in between swift kisses, "...you...lay back."

Wordlessly he complied, and she straddled his hips before sinking onto him. She made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a deep sigh as he filled her inside. And she heard a similar groan of delight come from him. His hands cupped her thighs guiding her motions as she began rocking back and forth against him. Her hands pressed into his shoulders, and she increased her pacing in accordance with their heavy breathing. He tried to pull up her nightgown, but her arms blocked him from completely disrobing her. Instead, he settled for cupping her low hanging breasts, pinching her nipples while she continued grinding her hips into him.

The pressure inside her lower abdomen built and the nerves above her sex buzzed with desperation as they continuously rubbed across his navel. Her head flung back, her spine arching to seek a better angle to finish herself off. It was then she felt him sit up, his arm tightening around her back while his hips began to find a desirable rhythm beneath hers. His mouth found her right breast, sucking on her hardened nipple, tongue flicking it in a way that made her gasp and work harder to discover her climax while bringing him closer to his own.

Their bodies rocked into each other's, their breathing and moans elevating with each rhythmic joining. Arthur's mouth pulled from her breast with a strangled cry, and her mouth dove down onto his. They kissed firmly while he thrusted in and out of her from below. Her one arm wrapped around his neck, the other seeking stability from the mattress while her hips met his, taking him inside of her deeper and deeper each time.

She nipped at his bottom lip and sucked in between her own, relishing in the sensation of feeling him inside. Finally, Molly felt her body respond to the full height of her pleasure. Her lower abdomen tightened, the muscles in her legs clenching around him while a fiery sensations broke out. She let out a strangled cry, her body arching back gracefully. Arthur was soon behind her in reaching his end, a sated groan escaping his lips while his face burrowed in between her soft breasts.

They stayed joined together for a few seconds longer, catching their breaths. Arthur readjusted the lopsided nightgown back down over the right side of her body, and Molly slid off of him. Reaching for his pajama bottoms at the foot of the bed, she tossed them back to him. She looked up in the mirror that hovered above the vanity table pushed up against the opposite wall. She caught sight of herself and felt herself grow warm with a self-conscious air that dissipated in the heat of the moment. Her soft rollers loosened and were nearly falling off in some places. She reached up to tighten them against her scalp at the same time she felt Arthur place a quick kiss at the back of her shoulder.

The mattress creaked beneath them, signaling he was disappearing back beneath the covers. "Did you hate _that_?" He mused with a tired quality in his question.

She snorted, shifting around on her knees to meet his eye. Arching a brow, she answered, "No, but if you keep asking me that then I might start to hate you."

A burst of laughter shot from him, his arms lifting to fold behind his head. He regarded her with a broad grin while she finished fastening the rollers at her forehead.

"What?" She questioned, feeling that blanket of self-consciousness wrapping its way around her while he continued appraising her with that cheery, thoughtful look.

He shook his head, his expression holding steady, "No...nothing."

Tilting her head to one side, her brow furrowed and she frowned a bit at his sudden mysterious air.

"It's just..." He started then stopped. His cheeks grew rosier as he worked through the embarrassment the next words possessed, "...I'm glad you still enjoy _that_."

Feeling a warm smile tug at her lips, she laid back down on the bed beside him. Curling her one arm beneath her cheek, she peered over at him and remarked smartly, "I may be old, but I'm not dead. And neither are you." Her foot kicked forward to touch his leg.

Arthur rolled onto his side, slinging an arm over her waist. She adjusted her head against the pillow, finding a comfortable spot between all the rollers wound through her hair. Letting out a tired breath, her eyelids slowly fluttered shut. It wasn't until she heard him mumble quietly that her eyes snapped open.

"You're not _that_ old."

A soft smile danced across her face, and she lightly touched his cheek. "You sweet man," She murmured, angling her face forward until their lips met in a chaste kiss. Her nose bumped over his.

He chuckled lightly before returning sleepily, "And you lovely woman."

She merely hummed in reply, feeling the weight of sleep take hold of her. The heaviness of the quilt paired with the warmth of his body so close to hers was another sort of extravagance only for her.


End file.
